


I'll Be Waiting Standby

by meanderingsoul



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Lesbian Character, Light Masochism, Multiple Female Orgasms, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sharing a Bed, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingsoul/pseuds/meanderingsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hit Angie in that moment that Peggy was it. There would never be another girl like her, never another love set aside for Angela Martinelli to have and hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Waiting Standby

**Author's Note:**

> (edited 6/24/16)

Angie still had no clue what Peggy had said to Mrs. Fry to get her room back, but the old lady was still stewing, face looking like she’d bit down hard on a lemon whenever Peggy would walk by or greet her and it had been almost four months now since the whole incident.

*

The other guys had cleared out fast after the car had left with Peggy inside it and Angie had hurried back inside and numbly moved everything that was Peggy’s into her own room before Mrs. Fry could have it all thrown out in the street. She didn’t see Dottie move out or anything. It was like the gal had just dissolved (and good riddance, something was off about that girl). And after several days and another call to her brother who talked to her cousin who talked to their other cousin who knew some people, Angie’d started to wonder whether Peggy had dissolved away too.

The other woman’s bathrobe was flung across the top of her stack of things, a silky bit of luxury. Angie could picture her curled up in it with damp hair late at night. It had been four days now with not a word or a hint of her, and there’d been that explosion at the Bell phone company, even though Angie was certain now Peggy didn’t really work there, and that Howard Stark character was all over the newspapers again. The only thing that particular cousin had gotten back to her brother to tell her was that there was weird stuff going on  in town and Angie should stay off the streets as much as she could.

So she took cabs back to the Griffith from the diner at night, despite the extra costs, and avoided the girls she would normally go out for a drink or two with at the end of a week. It seemed quiet without Peggy across the hall, even though she’d almost never made any noise. After the first week passed Angie started to think that maybe English had just been quietly deported or worse and she would really never see her again, that there was no someday.

She might have cried into that bathrobe, but it only smelled of fabric.

*

Peggy had shown up outside her door after dinner, more than two weeks after Angie had watched her being shoved into the back of some cop car looking sick and dazed in a way she never could have imagined. Peggy was wearing what looked like the same trousers she’d left in, hair pulled back in a tight braid and dark smudges under her eyes. She looked different without her makeup done up, younger and somehow more and less severe at the same time. Angie clapped a hand up over her mouth in case she shrieked. Peggy smiled a little weakly.

“I don’t have any schnapps, but I brought champagne and orange juice. I know it’s the wrong time of day for mimosas, but I’m actually a little earlier getting here than I thought. May I come in?”

Angie had stepped aside and Peggy had walked in and set their drinks down on the side table while taking in the pile of her things still in the corner. As soon as the glass bottles were out of her hands Angie yanked her into an embrace, letting out a shuddery breath it felt like she’d been holding for weeks. Peggy tucked in close along her like she’d done before, resting her chin on her shoulder with a little sigh. They stood like that for a long moment, much longer than they’d had time for before, swaying a little side to side. Peggy was warm and sturdy on her feet and smelled like plain soap and a teensy bit of vanilla, like she always had. Angie finally made herself pull away and start digging up two glasses from her hutch.

“Better get started spillin Pegs. Where’ve you been?”

*

 

Angie had tried to be a nice, normal girl. She really had. She knew that even if people had certain _leanings_ they didn’t have to just give in to them. She joined 4H. She went out dancing with big groups whenever she could; she’d never wanted for friendly company. Everyone knew the Martinelli’s in her neighborhood.

She tried things out with boys from other neighborhoods, ones she never had to see again when things got awkward. It was… disappointing just how little she could convince herself it did for her. She’d been 19 and living in a new part of the city out on her own the first time she’d touched another girl like that, a quick fumble of unbuttoned blouses in a cramped washroom between auditions after some sidelong glances through long lashes. It had been a revelation – not just an enjoyment of touch but a wanting, not just tolerance but attraction. Angie’d given up on boys then, no matter how pretty Captain America looked in the USO show.

It was a good thing her Nana really was so supportive of her acting. It kept her family from fussing at her too much about her lack of a steady fella.

 

*

Peggy had fessed up to several things when they’d had that someday, curled on Angie’s bed with their feet resting together and late evening mimosas in pink and green coffee mugs. She did not work for a phone company - although she could work one of those big switchboard things. She said she couldn’t tell Angie where she actually did work, though Angie wasn’t sure if it really was all that hush hush or if Peggy was just being overly secretive like usual. Probably both.

And apparently Dottie had had something to do with framing Peggy’s arrest, and had not been from the USA or Iowa or an aspiring ballerina at all, the creep. Peggy assured her that she wouldn’t be back to the Griffith. Angie hoped viciously that she’d gotten herself deported.

Peggy’d served over in Europe in the war. Angie really wasn’t surprised by that. The way Pegs carried herself and kept her hair and room so neat and tidy kind of gave that away. Angie had only been almost 18 when Pearl Harbor Day had happened, and the only girl in her family. Her Mamma would have died of fright if she’d gone to join up somewhere along with her older brother. So she finished high school and started waitressing and going to theatre auditions like her Nana told her to. Bought a war bond from Captain America with her very own pay.

Peggy would be 27 soon. She’d been older, and the fighting in Europe had gone on for longer. So she’d finished school and joined up in 1938. When Angie asked what she’d done (triage nurse, ambulance driver, radio operator? cause Peggy had definitely not been a secretary) Peggy had gotten all secretive again.

“Oh, I think I did all of that at least once. There was a lot of work to be done.”

That was when Angie started having real _Suspicions_.

Angie had teased her then about any ‘war wounds’ not expecting that Pegs would unbutton the top of her blouse and show two little scars on her shoulder that made Angie’s blood run cold. She knew what bullet wounds looked like. You didn’t grow up in a neighborhood with people who knew people like hers and not know.

Peggy glanced back at her when she stopped talking. “Oh Angie, it wasn’t serious. They were small bullets, and from some distance. It didn’t even fracture my scapula. Though it was a bloody nuisance of a bruise. And my writing hand too.”

Maybe Peggy didn’t have the good sense to be scared of the things she ought to, like big spiders and angry fellas twice her size, but someone in the world had looked at English, seen her lovely face and her smile the prim way she held her spine, and decided to shoot her. Maybe Angie hoped that person wasn’t actually in the world anymore. She didn’t ever ask.

And Peggy’d had a fella in the army. His name was Steve (which really started to confirm some of Angie’s _Suspicions_ ), and it had been real steady, but he was hardly going to propose out in some warzone. He’d died in a plane crash in Europe while they’d been on the radio together, which was more kinds of awful than Angie could bear to think about. That was the first time Peggy had sought out Angie’s touch herself, not just allowed it when it was offered, or just let her make soothing noises from a distance like the only other time she’d seen Peggy cry.

Peggy couldn’t stop for a long while. Angie wasn’t surprised. Peggy didn’t seem like the type to have the good sense to get the weepies out when they came around on a regular basis, so they didn’t all take you by surprise later. Angie wrapped both arms around her and rocked them a bit, pressed her dark head down to lean against her shoulder. Peggy was a quiet crier, even when she was letting loose of things in private. It suited her.

*

 

Maybe later, when Angie was by herself again she cried too, because her brother came home with only some scars and her cousin came back with a limp but whole (except for maybe a toe but he wouldn’t say), but Peggy had no body to bury and no ring so people would take her grieving seriously, and Captain America deserved more than a lonely, unmarked grave far from home where his sweetheart would never come to visit.

And there was no way ‘Betty Carver’ had spent the war mending pants.

 

*

They eventually fell asleep together on Angie’s bed with Peggy’s damp face still on her shoulder and most of the champagne gone. Angie woke up in the witching hours with Peggy breathing silently against her neck, both of them still in their clothes and a hair pin yanking at the back of her head. In a drowsy impulse she kissed Peggy’s forehead, then caught her breath when she realized what she’d done.

Peggy made an adorable puzzled face when she woke up and saw her, but settled right back onto her shoulder as if going back to sleep. Angie tugged her up out of bed and washed the tears and makeup off her face with a cloth in her cramped washroom while Peggy sleepily worked the mess of pins out of her hair for her. A few wavy tendrils had escaped her dark braid. Angie tucked one gently behind her ear. Either Peggy would read something into the gesture or not, but half asleep in the dark it didn’t seem too chancy.

They hugged again near the door. Angie was still so relieved to see her here and ok, to be able to fall back to sleep knowing Peggy was doing the same just down the hall. With her freshly washed, pale cheek right there by her own Angie risked pressing a kiss to it. It wasn’t that weird over in Europe, right?

Peggy stiffened for a moment, but then kissed Angie back just the same, right below the cheekbone. It was a sweet gesture more than anything else, but it made Angie brave enough to catch the corner of Peggy’s mouth when she was leaning away. She could play it off as an accident if Peggy seemed offended, but at least she’d have done it the once. But Peggy surprised her again, like she always did, and kissed her back directly on the mouth. It was barely more than a simple press of lips to lips, warm petal soft, but Peggy let herself out with a faintly delighted expression while Angie’s head was still spinning.

Things just kinda fell into place after that.

*

 

Quick fumbles with other girls looking for quick fumbles weren’t actually that hard to find, if you knew the right parts of the city to look. Angie had got good at finding the right places and people during those first years out on her own. Most of the dancehalls might have closed down for the war, but there were still dives where other gals came looking to take their minds off things for a while. Girls like Angie.

She didn’t let herself pine after anything more. It wasn’t like she could ever take someone home to her family, or live with them in a nice townhouse when she finally got her break on Broadway. Those were foolish thoughts. Finding the Griffith had been a relief from lousy shared places with girls who inevitably brought fellas over, or wanted to hear about Angie’s fellas, or went out and got married overnight like her one dotty roommate. There were no guy’s advances to fend off here, especially the ones who were actually trying to be sweet and she couldn’t tell them what the real issue was. She didn’t mind fellas company at all, never had, was used to having her cousins and brothers around, but things always seemed to get awkward when someone got interested somehow and she couldn’t come up with a good enough lie.

Mrs. Fry ran the place with an iron fist, since she obviously didn’t have enough of her own business to be in, what with her husband dead in the Great War and no children of her own to bother. But the girls were almost all friendly and working jobs in the city just like she was. Her room was nice, and having her own bathroom got rid of the fear of giving herself away somehow, and having a roommate flip their lid like she’d been peeping on them the whole time.

And as long as she cooed over the other girl’s fellas along with everyone else at The Griffith dinner table no one paid her any mind.

 

*

After that first, dreamlike kiss in the dark had been kisses in golden lamplight, with wet mouths and that bland lipstick taste. Then sleeping together without pajama tops on. Then even more.

They took baths together sometimes, legs twined together under the warm water. Occasionally they went out to see films with a bunch of the other girls, like when Black Beauty had come out, though Peggy was not a fan of horses. Sometimes they went just the two of them, like a real date. Angie got them tickets to the latest Sherlock Holmes film as a surprise and met Peggy at her door with them, like a really classy fella would have done. They sat in the back row and leaned close together in the dark, red bag of popcorn between them. Peggy had an unholy love of mysteries, especially murder mysteries, and a bad habit of giggling whenever someone met their grisly end on the screen. Angie might have watched Peggy more than the film.

It had been four months now since that kiss and Angie still pinched herself at work sometimes to make sure it wasn’t all a wonderful dream.

They were familiar to each other in bed now, something Angie had never had before. Peggy made the most unexpected high, breathy little sounds when she got all worked up and it made Angie’s head spin. They liked to take their hair down after dinner and run their fingers through it and kiss and kiss until lipstick was ruined and blush rubbed away. Peggy always cupped her face so gently, moved away from kisses last with her lips like she was hungry for them. Peggy indulged herself in touches the way she seemed to do with nothing else. Angie was more than happy to indulge her.

Her breasts were truly a thing to be envied, like something on a starlet in the magazines. Angie’s were perfectly decent (so thank-you-very-much Director Franklin), she filled out a b-cup just fine without any padding. Peggy liked her to squeeze down on hers slow, to suck firmly and for much longer than Angie could stand herself. She didn’t like the soft little nips of teeth on them that Angie did, like little sparkles, said it didn’t feel like much for her at all. Angie’d never gotten to just chat with another girl about who liked what and why. It was its own kind of thrill, even on the nights where they just cuddled a little and then slept in their own rooms. Aching feet, long shifts, and fathead coworkers were still very present in their lives. And Mrs. Fry had ears like a bat.

Even with all that time of getting to know each other better, secret grins across the breakfast table, sleep talking and the occasional bad nightmare, hundreds of kisses, it had taken Angie a while to figure out that when Peggy encouraged her to rake down her back with her nails or bite her, she really meant for her to go for it.

*

 

Angie had been all set in her plans, just needed that first big break so the Broadway roles would keep coming, and then she could be an old maid if she felt like it. But then a doe-eyed brunette had walked into the automat and ordered the meatloaf plate in a prim English accent, just like in the pictures, and then kind of ruined the image when she shoved in a ridiculously sized bite almost as soon as Angie had set the plate down in front of her, like it might get away if she didn’t. She sat all alone in a booth watching people come and go in the counter mirror. Her dark curls and lipstick were always perfect. She gave Angie a little smile when she refilled her coffee and left a tip on the upper side of reasonable and the next time she came in for dinner she remembered her name and gave her that same little smile and Angie was sunk.

 

*

They’d been steady for almost a month when Angie started noticing the way Peggy would press Angie’s hands to grip her tighter, make encouraging sounds when a sharp nail caught her pale skin instead of hissing or pulling away.

Peggy was unfailingly tender with Angie, never a rough touch, despite the callouses on her hands. She turned her into goo with her suckling mouth and kneading fingertips and perfect, light nips along the edges of her breast. She’d whisper sweet praise in her ear and call her dearest and Angie would shiver. She’d learned fast. Peggy had been totally honest about having never done anything in bed with a woman before, or even given it any thought. It made Angie feel special more than anything. (She did worry a little bit, sometimes, because what if Peggy woke up one day and decided she didn’t like this anymore? Or never really had?)

But Peggy liked her hair pulled and her back scraped with painted nails, teeth on her shoulders and strong thighs. She could almost never come with less than two of Angie’s fingers tucked inside her. It didn’t sink in how much she liked a rough touch until the time she accidentally drew blood with one scrape and Peggy had just grinned like a wicked thing, temptation herself, black-eyed and wild haired with a mouth like a red maw of sinful things.

Peggy didn’t seem to want to be rough in return at all, just get squeezed until there were fingertip sized bruises and reddened bites and scratches all over her milk pale skin. Then after turning Angie’s legs to jelly, she’d curl up on her shoulder and sigh in perfect contentment. Angie was happy to give her anything she asked for, she really was, but she didn’t understand it.

*

 

Angie’d been called eager to please a few times as a girl, by teachers, after Sunday mass, by several of her aunts. She hadn’t liked it, but it was a bit true. Angie liked to feel useful and wanted, and sometimes chasing after that had gotten her into trouble as a girl. She’d learned from it the hard way, but it didn’t change the satisfaction she got when she was able to provide something for someone before they really realized they needed it. She’d felt that little contented glow both times Peggy had cried with her there for comfort. Had felt it for all of a minute before Peggy had been arrested and dragged away.

She was starting to think that she might be able to get that feeling from giving Peggy the kind of things in bed that most girls she could think of would hate.

 

*

Sometimes they talked during, silly and naughty, like a private game of never-have-I-ever made up of past encounters and idle thoughts. Sometimes they had to stop and laugh. Only one time they had to stop because Peggy had started to tear up which about broke Angie’s heart to see. It was fine to ask things about _him_ as long as Angie didn’t actually say Steve, but she usually avoided asking anyway. Except after watching Peggy’s red lips part on a sigh after Angie slid a third finger inside her twitchet she got curious.

“Did you ever, you know, go all the way with your guy?”

Peggy bit down on her lower lip while grinning, an expression Angie only ever saw in one of their beds and adored. “Mmm, yes. A few times, when we could chance it. He was  _big_.”

“Did you like it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What did he like?”

“Me, up top like this. He would blush so.” Peggy forced her eyes open dazed as they were and stared into Angie’s, as if to make sure that hadn’t been too much or too insensitive or whatever other word Peggy would come up with for chatting together like normal people.

Angie sighed and tucked her free hand behind her head, arching her back as she did so because that would make Peggy stop thinking. “You think too much English.”

Peggy was straddling her waist, rocking back and forth on the curled bunch of three of Angie’s fingers, cradling her wrist for her so she didn’t accidentally strain it, because that would be a treat to explain at work. She’d stutter to a stop when she got close and then start again over and over, as if she liked to torment herself. Angie couldn’t stand to be teased herself, but was happy to watch Peggy drive herself crazy with Angie’s hands while she lay comfy on her back and got more and more worked up at the sight.

Peggy muffled her gasps with her hand when she finally came, a tangible flutter around her fingers. Then she lay down on her belly between Angie’s thighs and got it off for her, gently lapping and rubbing just right, drowsy and sweet until Angie came on a gasp. She lay sucking kisses on that little button they had, without giving her a minute to catch her breath and Angie shuddered apart again, devastatingly, stifling her constant moans in a nearby pillow.

They both forgot to set their hair or wash up before they dozed off and looked a mess the next day. Peggy cursed a bunch, yanked her hair up into an uncharacteristic bun before dashing out the door for the “office”. Angie rolled over and dozed in Peggy’s warm bed for a while after a goodbye kiss. She didn’t have work till late today and sleeping in in a bed that smelled like them seemed heavenly.

*

 

Angie tried not to think about Steve-and-Peggy too much. It didn’t seem fair somehow, or decent of her. Here she was with Peggy all to herself while her should-have-been husband had died a hero in the War. Peggy should have had an engagement ring on her finger when they met. They should have spent her lunch breaks looking through bridal catalogs for that perfect dress. Peggy should have shown up one evening with him in tow, and Angie would have teased her unmercifully for how Peggy would have looked at him, maybe while they shared a piece of cake between them on the table. They could have still been friends, and ‘Betty Carver’ and Captain America would have got what they truly deserved.

 Angie likes to think she wouldn’t have pined after Peggy so, if she’d known she was spoken for when they met. She wouldn’t do that.

She still wonders sometimes what Steve might have thought of her, what he was really like, besides nothing like the radio show gorilla. She had a hard time matching up the man she’d seen up on stage with Peggy’s few stories of nervous fumbles and blushing, and a vicious temper. Peggy had no pictures of him that she’d seen. Would he have liked her? Was she selfish, for being so grateful for what she had now?

So she tried not to think about it. What’s done is done. But despite that, hearing Peggy talk about him in bed together that night had given Angie an idea, an image that ate at her in weird moments over the next couple of weeks, made her face go hot.

 

*

Their new neighbor in Dottie’s old room (the creep) was a much more reasonable gal, even though she was from Jersey, the poor thing. Alice had been a draftsman in the WAC’s during the war and had just gotten a job at an architecture firm in the city.

She and Peggy had seemed to instantly recognized a kindred spirit in each other, and Peggy was much more talkative when they met than she usually was with the other girls. Angie had smiled and laughed a bit while they talked. She was just starting to wonder idly if this was something she was supposed to be jealous over, was that how these things went, when Peggy had said “We’ll see you at dinner later”. _We_ , as if Angie and Peggy were a set somehow and not to be parted. Angie thought she might have let out a sigh or some other little sound. If Peggy had proposed there and then, with a swelling orchestra in the background and everything it couldn’t have been a sweeter gesture.

Peggy gave her an odd look, but didn’t seem to notice what she’d done.

Alice always said hi to everyone in the halls, was cheerful at breakfast, and never mentioned it if she saw them moving from room to room late at night, or if she heard any odd noises. It was very decent of her.

They both had some busy weeks. Angie had two auditions to prep for, since the one for ‘A Doll’s House’ had been yet another bust, but the part of Eunice Hubbell seemed really promising. She’d also got stuck with the midday and evening rush shifts at the diner, cause Beatrice had to quit suddenly which threw all the schedules off. It felt like they were only really seeing each other on days when Peggy came in for lunch or when one of them snuck into the others bed to sleep.

Then Peggy was suddenly out of town for a couple days, though she at least left a note this time. It didn’t say where she was going or why of course, but it was better than the last time where she’d just vanished for several days. Angie tried not to fret. Tried.

Peggy came slinking back onto her usual stool with a wrapped up wrist, a limp that would set Mrs. Fry to glaring, and the airs of a smug cat. Angie set a coffee down in front of her with a wink and she outright grinned back, a somewhat wicked look.

It seemed like the kind of night for Angie’s idea.

They tumbled into Angie’s bed that night half dressed, kicked the pink coverlet down and rocked together belly to soft belly. Angie set her teeth into Peggy’s unbruised shoulder until a red outline of them was left behind. She felt her sweetheart tug her hand up to suck her fingers. She was good at it, too good, almost made Angie forget her plans for the night.

“You’re good at that.” Peggy only hummed and dragged the tip of her tongue up along the groove between her fingers, pressed them up against the roof of her mouth where Angie knew her pink painted nails would scrape at the thin flesh.

“Ever do that to a fella?” she blurted out. Angie had almost asked before, but even some girls who had a different fella each week would almost slap you for implying they’d do  _that_.

Peggy just pulled away and touched the tips of their noses together for a moment. “A few times.”

“Like it?”

“I think I like most anything with the right partner. Have you tried it?”

“Once, just to see you know?” Peggy was nuzzling into the just unbuttoned top of her blouse so she almost didn’t have enough breath to reply.

“Did you like it?”

“Lord it was terrible. He _smelled_ and just… I left early and never spoke to him again.”

“Oh, my poor darling.”

They collapsed into each other in a small fit of laughter. Angie tucked her mouth in against the sweet smelling curve of Peggy’s neck. Peggy had said before how she loved to be bitten there, but it would have to wait for winter, when high collars and silky scarves wouldn’t need explanations. She pressed a kiss there as if in promise and Peggy shuddered.

The ended up in their usual, and how crazy was it to have a usual  _that_  too, with Peggy on top of her waist and kissing her all over while Angie undid the hooks on her fancy underthings and got a hard grip on the hipbones underneath. Peggy didn’t like to be on her back.

Peggy was grinning down at her now, holding her waist with one hand and smoothing circles with her thumb while cradling her wrist with the other. All her weight was balanced on her legs while she moved on Angie’s fingers without any visible effort, and she knew that was a lot harder than it looked. They both had strong legs, but Angie doubted Pegs’ were from dance practice despite how good they looked.

Angie took a breath and pressed inside with her third finger and her pinky for the first time. Her knuckles got squeezed together, nudging up against that damp heat closer than ever. Peggy froze and sucked in a sharp breath, looking down at Angie wide eyed.

“This ok sweetie?” Angie would stop in a second, apologize with all the kisses she had if she had hurt her, but she thought she’d guessed right.

Peggy gave a silent nod, mouth dropped open a little. Her eyes fluttered shut when she started to move again. Angie kept having to stop herself from holding her breath. Peggy was falling to pieces right in front of her.

She could bounce on her hand more without the little sideways twist of her pinky to think of. Angie could feel Peggy’s body starting to clutch at her from the inside, so she was already getting close, wasn’t stopping to tease herself like she normally would.

Her knuckle bones kept shoving up against her opening. Angie would almost feel like she should pull back, it was already so tight, but Peggy’s eyes were rolling back in her head. Her hands were clutching at her own thighs now, digging in with her nails with fingers curled like cat’s claws and flexing to leave little red scratches. Angie laid her palm on Peggy’s flexing belly, like maybe she could feel her fingers from the outside.

Pegs doubled over just as Angie’s knuckles finally slipped inside her and muffled a shriek in Angie’s breast as she came. Angie startled but felt a thrill all through her. Peggy had never made so much as a whimper before, just heavy breathing and laughter.

They were both trembling a little. Angie could feel the little spasms inside of her around her hand, her body overwhelmed. How could a body even know what to do with something like this? She stroked around the edge of her twitchet with her thumb where it was stretched so harshly around the middle of her palm. She imagined how pink it must right now, be since it was very wet. Peggy gasped at the touch.

“Oh, oh just give me a minute dearest. I never even thought of…” but she trailed off into panting. She shifted over, weak as a kitten to wrap her mouth around a breast and suckle.

Angie fisted her hand in the dark hair near the back of her head and held her there, watched the streetlight coming in as the sky went dark blue. They would probably miss dinner but they could heat up some soup in the kitchenette down the hall, maybe eat it tucked into bed. Neither of them had work early tomorrow which was probably a good thing. This had gone better than she’d ever even thought.

*

 

It had been three months into being steady with each other when they both had an entire afternoon off at the same time. It was finally the first of the warmer days, and Peggy had come by with two bottles of cola and yet another murderous novel. They slumped onto Angie’s bed with the window open behind the lace curtains for a fresh breeze and the radio on low and read in silence. Angie had a new script for a play she was thinking about trying out for. Peggy laughed softly and Angie could be sure someone had just died horribly on the page she was reading.

It made her look up at Pegs’ face, though she wasn’t looking back, still reading. Her hair was loose around her face and only the faintest red tint from her lipstick remained. Her soft, blue skirt was puddled around her bare calves and her lilac blouse was only partly buttoned. They were both enjoying the warmer air after a damp winter. Angie had her feet in a patch of sun. They had the same nail polish on. Angie had bought Peggy a new Revlon red, one with gold sparkles in it a week ago and they’d both put it on together that night.

It hit Angie in that moment that Peggy was it. There would never be another girl like her, never another love set aside for Angela Martinelli to have and hold. That this was a blessing sure as anything, no matter what the church back in her neighborhood might say.

Peggy glanced up at her over the top of her grisly book and smiled.

 

*

Peggy finally sat up, halting motions and balanced forward on both shaking elbows so that she didn’t smush Angie, but their breasts were still pressed warm and damp together. Her eyes were over-bright.

“Give me the rest.”

Angie didn’t realize what she meant at first, though it had been her original idea. Peggy had already come to pieces so completely, and she usually only wanted that once in a night where Angie went for two or three. “What? Really? Are you sure? You’re already so...”

“Please. Please, give me the rest. I want to.”

Peggy did not say please in bed. Ever. Angie felt her body go hot and cold all over. Peggy was kneeling above her and shaking, eyes still black with needing and fixed on Angie’s face.

“Anything Pegs. Anything. Come up here.”

They shuffled around a little on the wrinkled bedding. Angie helped Peggy shuffle forward a bit with a hand on her plush behind. Peggy let out a breathy little cry when moving shifted Angie’s palm inside her. Angie dug her nails in until Peggy was straddling her lower ribs and she could brace her own elbow on the bed. There was a trail of wet heading sliding down towards Angie’s wrist. Peggy’d never been so worked up before, she was shuddering all over. Angie’s heart was racing.

Angie started rubbing at the tight ring of pink around her hand with her thumb again. It almost didn’t seem like a good idea, to try for more, but Peggy had asked her for it and everything was so hot and slick now she could almost taste Pegs on her tongue just from the air.

She didn’t ask if she was ready or anything silly like that, since once Peggy made up her mind it didn’t matter, just tucked her thumb in tight to her palm and started to _press_. Peggy flung up an arm and shoved it in her mouth to bite down on, but it didn’t quite muffle the sound she made when the bump of Angie’s thumb slipped inside and her twitchet clamped down around her wrist. She was shaking, every muscle gone taut. When Angie carefully nudged up towards her belly with her knuckles Peggy screamed. It seemed like she kept screaming a while after she ran out of air before collapsing down to Angie’s breast like a puppet with its strings cut. Angie didn’t blink for any of it.

It finished getting dark outside while they lay panting together, kissing slow and soft whenever they could catch enough breath. Peggy was still shaking, crouched over Angie in an awkward hunch, but Angie wasn’t sure she could sit herself up just now. She felt very smug, but it was a little problematic.

“Pegs, you’re kind of squeezing my hand. I’m gonna need it back sometime.” Peggy’s insides had gripped down on Angie’s hand so tight it was almost uncomfortable and hadn’t given so much as a twitch since. It had to let up sometime, right?

“I, I don’t think I can, um, let go yet. I don’t know how to make it…”

Peggy was still obviously a little stunned, but now both of them were trying not to laugh which seemed like a terrible idea with the current arrangement of limbs. Peggy’s body was clinging down so hard she didn’t dare try to tug free.

“It’s fine honey, we can wait.”

They shifted around clumsily until Peggy could rest more of her weight onto Angie and the bed. Pegs was starting to doze off on top of her, and she was _much_ heavier than she looked, before her body finally decided to let Angie go. Her wrist had started to ache but she wasn’t going to mention it. This was a special occasion if there ever was one.

Peggy whimpered out loud and shook like a leaf when Angie was finally able to slide her hand out. Her hand was a little wrinkled when she flexed it, like she’d stayed in a bath too long. She tucked her fingers into her own mouth and sucked. Peggy smelled and tasted a little sharper than she did for some reason. Every gal was different from the next, but Angie had never had a clue why. You couldn’t just ask a doc that kind of thing.

Peggy watched her with dark eyes. “Oh good lord dearest, are you trying to kill me?”

“After all that, and this is what I’m trying to kill you with? You’re crazy English.”

Peggy laughed low in her chest and nuzzled the top of the breast nearest where she was using Angie as a pillow.

“Wait, you didn’t have it off yet. Lemme…”

“I’m not so sure I didn’t watching you, but I can’t remember.” She really couldn’t, there’d been something very distracting going on, but she felt satisfied down in her bones. “I don’t think I could focus enough to even try for it now, even if you weren’t about to fall asleep on me. You can owe me one.”

Peggy was limp and heavy along her side, but leaned up to kiss her cheek.

“You’re so good to me, love. I’m so lucky to have you.”

It was barely more than a mumble and she was out like a light a moment later, breathing deep and slow. Angie lay awake for a while longer and stroked her strong back, the little scars on her shoulder.

Peggy had never called her love before.

*

 

It was many months more before Angie ever got up the nerve to ask, lying back to front in Peggy’s room in the dark with the window cracked open for a late summer breeze.

“What do you think Steve would have thought of me? Do you think he would have liked me ok, if I’d gotten to meet him?”

Peggy sat up and peered down at her with a confused frown. Angie could see no more in the room than her face and her silhouette, with its rows of pinned up ringlets flat to her skull.

“Of course he would have liked you. I love you, don’t I?”

Peggy was still frowning a little, as if perhaps something was going on that she didn’t know about. As if that hadn’t been the most important sentence Angie had ever heard. Angie smiled, and pulled her down to lay face to face instead.

“Love you too, English.”

Angie slept and didn’t need to dream.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I really wanted to post this before the finale, because who else is super nervous? Cartinelli ate my life. I have a small epilogue planned from Peggy's POV but am not sure when I might post it. Title from Come and Get It as covered by Postmodern Jukebox, which has become my Angie song.
> 
> I do have a tumblr over [here](http://meanderings0ul.tumblr.com). I don't do anons, but my ask is always open. Con crit on my fics is always welcome.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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